Flu
by Dresden-Neville
Summary: In which House is sick, goes to work, Wilson worries. Slash. HxW. One shot. Please read bold print at top of story. Thank you.


**My first House fic. Characters may seem OOC, but forgive me...I did try. :)**

** A one shot-SLASH.**

Chapter 1-

Wilson sat on the edge of the bed putting a hand to House's forehead. He didn't get the immediate reaction of House's arm knocking his own hand off, but it sluggishly came a few moments later. Blue eyes appeared, bright with fever.

"Don't say anything, "House said hoarsly, "I know, I know. I'm a doctor too, in case you've forgotten."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "You really should go to the hospital."

"Yeah? And you should just leave me alone. Let me sleep."

Wilson sighed and set the glass of water down on the bedside. When he looked back at House, the man was staring at him.

"You're not getting sick are you? Because don't think I'll take care of you. You're fault for sleeping with a sick guy."

"No I'm not getting sick and I wouldn't even think of you taking care of me," Wilson smiled, "I'd rather live another few years. Besides..who else would I sleep with. Your couch-"

"You leave my couch out of this. It might get its feelings hurt."

House gave a weak cough which turned into an episode. Wilson swore a lung was going to come spewing out anytime. When House had finally calmed down, Wilson handed him a glass of water and stood.

"I've got work," Wilson reported, "But I think I'll just call in saying that-"

"Go to work, I couldn't possibly sleep with you hovering around all day."

Wilson shook his head and left the room. He came back a few moments later with the phone and put it by the bedside.

"I'll call around lunchtime."

House didn't answer so Wilson made sure the bottle of Vicodin was within House's reach and the cane and left locking the door behind him.

Wilson was greeted by Cuddy, her aggravation rolling off in thunderous waves.

"Where's House?"

"Sick," Wilson answered and quickly said, "And no he's not faking this time."

Cuddy gave a brief aggravated groan. "Of all the days to get sick. Is he too sick to come work in the clinic?"

Wilson looked at her, wondering if she really just asked that question. He kept his face calm though and asked, "Busy day?"

"One of the worse days I've seen. After all, it is flu and pnemonia season."

Wilson looked outside as he passed an open window. He was surprised to see it raining. He could see people running, bundling up inside jackets and umbrellas. He was glad when he came upon his own office and turned around to Cuddy.

"Well I've got a lot of paper work to do and a couple of consults and meetings and-"

"Alright I see your point. Good day, Dr. Wilson." Cuddy left her heels clicking almost as if they were shouting out her frusturation.

Wilson shook his head and shut himself up in his office. He sat down in his chair and got comfortable. The amount of paper work on his desk seemed impossibly huge. He sighed and plucked the top one off. It was going to be a long morning.

House groaned as the phone shrilled for the third time. It was only nine o' clock, so it couldn't be Wilson. House opened his eyes, grabbed the phone and barked out, "What?"

"Dr. House, how pleasant to hear you."

House nearly groaned again. Dr. Lisa Cuddy was the last person he wanted to hear from.

"No I will not have sex with you for the last time," House retorted half-heartedly. He turned away from the phone coughing into the pillow.

"Is that a cough? So I guess the "invincible" House really is sick? Just a cold I presume?"

"How should I know? I'm no doctor."

A pause. Then the next question was asked hesitantly. "How sick are you?"

House narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"Well the clinic-"

"No. I will not. I'm horribly sick, in fact I think I'm dying. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to die in peace."

"I'll give you a week off of clinic if you'll come in just today."

"Just today?"

"Yes."

House thought for a moment. He could dope up on medication, deal with crap in the clinic and get a week off.

"Fine, I'll be there in a half hour."

"Great, bye."

House dropped the phone and sat up slowly. His body protested, especially his right leg. He popped a couple Vicodin, before standing even more slowly. He grasped the wall, waiting for the dizziness to pass. Grabbing his cane he went to the drawers, grabbing out a pair of pants and a shirt. He got them on, in no rush and was dismayed to find it raining outside. He'd have to take the bus. He would have called Wilson, but he knew all the oncologist would do was gripe and complain about his decision.

House grabbed his pills and keys and headed out the door.

House cough while impatiently waiting for the woman to list all her symptoms. He stood up, wincing as he leg gave a particularly horrid spasm. He grasped the counter and for once in the ten minutes the woman shut up.

"Are you alright, doctor?"

"Fine," House barked out, "Look take a couple Tylenol and lay down for a few hours. You'll feel better in no time. Now get out."

The woman huffed, snatched out her purse and left the room. House waited until the door had closed before sinking back into the chair, clutching his leg. He fished out the bottle of pills and popped one in his mouth, sucking on it. He didn't want to swallow it, his throat already sore. He rubbed a hand across his forehead. He briefly wondered how high his fever was when the door slammed open. Not good for his creepnig headache. House looked up to see Wilson standing there.

"The pissed off image doesn't look good on you," House supplied.

"What are you doing here?!"

"Would that be a question or an exclamation?"

"House.."Wilson warned with a low growl.

House rolled his eyes. "Mother called."

Wilson gave an aggravated groan. "And when have you ever done what Cuddy asked? The one time you actually should say no, you say yes! God, I've never met anyone as mixed up as you."

Wilson walked over shutting the door. "Look at you. Anyone from a mile away could see you're dead on your feet. You're running a fever now? Just-"

House slapped Wilson in the shins with his cane, trying to stop Wilsons' word rampage. House was glad he had taken a Vicodin or else the headache he was suddenly getting wouldn't be so easy to handle.

"Ouch, House what did you do that for?"

"To get you to shut up for a moment. I think you forgot that the human body needs air."

Wilson rolled his eyes and sat down. "Well forgive me for worrying. You really should be at home," Wilson said his voice softer now.

"I'm fine," House coughed out.

Wilson's pager went off and the doctor stood looking at House. "I've got to go, I'll see you later."

House gave a salute and followed Wilson out calling for the next person. As the man limped in there House was beginning to think maybe he should have stayed home. After all, it had been a week since he had any sleep and with a cold on top of that. House sighed and turned into room number three.

Wilson pulled the car around and watied patiently for House to come limping out. Wilson looked up into the sky, cursing the rain that hadn't let up since this morning. The door opened and slammed shut. Wilson looked over to see House, eyes closed, leaning back in the seat. One hand was massaging the right thigh.

"Don't stare. Just drive, the faster we get home the better."

Wilson put the car in gear and pulled out into the lane. He hit the horn when a blue 'stang raced in front of him.

"Damn you," Wilson muttered and was astounded when he heard chuckling from the other side. "What are you laughing at," he said annoyed.

"You and your road rage," House answered, "If I didn't know better, I'd say you had a hot date."

"Oh very funny House," came the dry reply, "If I weren't with you I would be dating."

There was no reply and Wilson had just gotten on the main road when House's controlled voice said, "Pull over."

"Why?"

"Pull the damn-"

Wilson swerved the car to the left after getting a good look at House's pale face. The old doctor, as soon as the car hit grass, pushed the door open and retched. Wilson laid a hand on his back, trying to see what House had in him to puke like that. There was nothing but bile. House's retching soon turned into dry-heaves.

Wilson winced. Vomiting and dry-heaving were the some of the worst sounds to listen to. It was a good five minutes before House sat up shakily, wiping his mouth. The door wasn't closed and Wilson looked around in the back. He found a bag with clothes in it and dumped them out. He gave the bag to House who took it and shut the door. Wilson waited for a nod before once again pulling out onto the road.

Before they got home House had dry-heaved twice more. Wilson went to the other side of the car offering a hand. He was surprised when the offer was taken. When House got out the right leg crumble underneath him and Wilson realized House knew this would happen. They made it slowly up to the apartment and once inside House headed for the couch, falling on it with a moan of relief.

"You were right," House said out fo the blue.

"Right about what?" Wilson asked while hanging up his jacket.

"I should've said no."

Wilson came over to the couch to see House had his eyes closed nearly asleep. Wilson bent down, giving the man a kiss.

"When will you realize that every once in a while, you're not right."

He began walking away when he heard House mutter, "Because that would be way too easy."

Wilson shook his head and walked toward the kitchen. Sometimes he didn't know why he had fallen in love with the smart assed doctor, but as Wilson looked back at House, who had fallen asleep, he smiled. He didn't know why, but he knew that House completed him and that was okay.

"Good night..Greg."


End file.
